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by NerysDax



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 06:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17095532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerysDax/pseuds/NerysDax
Summary: If Tom Riddle went to the future, what could possibly go wrong?





	Back

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kyoki777](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyoki777/gifts).



> **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** Created for WildKitsune’s Tomione Secret Santa 2018. Story has been commented on by two secret individuals, but not yet beta’d for spelling and grammar. So any errors on that end are mine (and spellcheck). Words JKR created (like Muggle) will not be capitalised in this story, for reasons. We die like meh. ;)

**Back**

 

Rushing into the overcrowded King’s Cross Station, Hermione pushed past several people who were just standing there, almost tripped over their luggage, and ignored the cries of indignation. She had to find Harry. She didn’t have time for proper British etiquette. She had no idea how long it had been. All that time, Harry didn’t know the danger he was in. She had to warn him. Her locator charm had led her here, and she knew now where he had to be: platform 9 ¾.

 

_ Why, why, why were there so many people here today? _

 

She tried moving to the side where there seemed to be an opening, but unfortunately, the reason for the opening were vendors selling junk. 

 

‘Brexit Mayhem, how long will our new PM last? Read all about it!’ one of the vendors shouted, holding out a copy of The Sun directly in front of her face. Normally, she wouldn’t have glanced at that trash paper twice, but the bolded date stopped her dead in her tracks. Frantically, she grabbed a hold of it. 2019! She’d been cooped up in that damn mansion for more than two decades! 

 

‘Damn you, Riddle,’ she muttered, her eyes flashing over the ridiculous headlines. Food and medication shortages? Humanitarian Aid for the UK? Seventh PM in half a year? Even for the sensationalistic Sun, this seemed a bit much, unless ... this was  _ his  _ doing?

 

‘That’ll be ten pounds, Ma’am.’

 

_ Ma’am?  _

 

‘TEN POUNDS!?’ she exclaimed when the price had sunk in, staring indignantly at the vendor.

 

She tried pushing the paper back into his hand, but he held out his other one. ‘You read it; you bought it.’

 

_ You read it; you bought it? What kind of weird, freak arse, alternate dimension had she returned to? _

 

The paper crumbled in her fist. Still, she didn’t have time for an argument even though she now really felt like it. Ten freaking pounds for that piece of trash. She had never bought The Sun once, and had been proud of it. Clearly there was a first for everything. She pushed the must-be-printed-on-gold-leaves paper into her coat’s pocket, fished her wallet out of another, and pushed a ten pound note into his hand, moving on as fast as she could. After she warned Harry, they could both try to make sense of this insanity and undo whatever Riddle had done.

 

Finally, she reached the doorway to the platform. Her wand slid into her hand automatically as she waited until the group of children with trolleys before her had entered. Taking a deep breath, concerned about what would await her, she stepped into the familiar sight of the steam train and the normal buzzle around it. Instant relief. Being back in the wizarding world felt comforting. Similar. The views never changed. People in cloaks and wizarding hats mixed with those wearing more contemporary outfits. Owls hooted, and toads croaked. Luggage floated around. Families stood everywhere, saying their goodbyes. Children already on the train were waving to their parents. It was almost eleven o’clock, Hermione noticed, smiling. She had missed this. It was equally if not more crowded than in the muggle part of the station. Yet somehow it felt more at ease, relaxed. There was a rhythm, an order, to the chaos. People seemed happier, not so irritated. Her moment of indulgence passed. Her eyes searched for her magicked green arrow that would lead her straight to … There he was.

 

‘HARRY!’ she yelled, waving her arms around at the familiar sight of his messy black hair and bolting into a run. Ginny, who stood facing Hermione, nudged him in the back, her mouth agape. 

 

‘What?’ Harry said, turning to his wife questioningly.

 

Ginny nodded in Hermione’s direction, but before he had time to process, Hermione had flung herself around his neck, the all so familiar scent of her bushy hair wafting into his face. 

 

‘Her-Hermione?’ he stuttered. ‘Is that, how, where? OMG.’ He grabbed a tight hold as if he were never letting go ever again. ‘Is it really you?’

 

Hermione pulled back, looking him straight in the eyes. ‘Yes, it is,’ she said happily before pulling him back into a crushing hug. ‘I missed you so much.’

 

‘Not as much as I you,’ Harry replied, burying his face in her hair. 

 

‘I have so much to tell you. I don’t know how to say it.’ She paused. 

 

Right when she was about to say ‘He’s back’, he was there, freezing the words in her mouth. Clad in a sleek, black suit, his dark eyes firmly on her, Tom Marvolo Riddle stood stockstill only a few meters away. Her heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t changed much since the last time she saw him. Time had been unreasonably kind to him and his features. He looked more handsome than ever. With a slow determination, he shook his head at her once. Fear gripped her throat. A coldness going straight to the marrow of her bones overran her senses. Her knuckles turned white from clutching to her wand. The excited yells and cheers surrounded her in an utter contrast to how she felt. There were so many children here. If this turned into a fight, it would get ugly. Her eyes flashed around, now noticing others who were not engaging in the normal crowd like behaviour. To make matters worse, Tom had not come alone. 

 

‘Hermione?’ Harry asked, concern dripping through his voice as he pushed her back to look her in the eye. ‘What’s wrong?’

 

She swallowed, trying to regain her composure, realising Harry’s eyes flickered over what had to be her now starkwhite face. She sent him a weak smile. ‘I-I …’ She shook her head. ‘It’s been too long.

 

‘It really has,’ Harry replied, smiling at her caringly. ‘But you’re back now and—’

 

‘Potters, Granger,’ Tom interrupted, smiling, ‘I’m sorry to cut this short, but I really need to start Miss Granger’s debriefing now before her memory is compromised.’

 

‘Sorry?’ Hermione said, frowning.

 

Harry turned to Tom, his arm looping around her waist. ‘She doesn’t know you are the new department head, I take it?’ 

 

_ Wait, what? Why was Harry friendly to Lord Voldemort? _

 

‘Haven't had a chance to tell her,’ Tom said. ‘She seemed utterly determined to find you instead of following protocol and reporting to the Department of Mysteries upon arriving back in the UK.’

 

Harry shrugged. ‘She’s been on assignment for an insane long time, Riddle.’

 

_ What assignment? Harry knows it is Him and there is no … nothing? _

 

‘I know. That’s why I allowed this reunion. Briefly,’ he added, now looking at her sternly. ‘You two can catch up later. I need you to come with me now, Hermione.’ 

 

_ Yeah, that didn’t seem like a sane idea.  _ She gripped Harry’s coat. 

 

Ginny’s hand fell on her arm, drawing her attention. ‘Dinner at our house tonight?’ she asked, looking from Hermione to Harry to Riddle. 

 

‘We should be done by then,’ Riddle said reassuringly. 

 

‘Good,’ said Harry, nodding to Ginny, ‘It’s decided then. You’re having dinner with us.’ He patted Hermione’s back, letting go off her waist and stepping sideways to make room for Riddle. 

 

Yet, Hermione’s hand wouldn’t let go off his coat. Harry equalled safety. Always had. She felt frozen in place, not knowing what to do. She lacked all the variables. She always knew all the variables to make a decision upon. Here there were so many that she didn’t understand how they could possibly be this way. Harry Potter and Tom Riddle not being at each other’s throats, yet acting kindly towards one another? This situation was batshit crazy. She never had been a think-on-your-feet kind of person. She would analyse, and analyse, and analyse some more, and then, come to an informed, researched, and properly weighted decision. She felt utterly out of her depth right now, and given who was moving towards her, that was terrifying.

 

‘You should come to,’ Ginny said to Tom.

 

_ Suuuure, the world wasn’t topsy turvy enough.  _

 

‘Only if I’m not interfering. You know I would otherwise never deny a chance at eating your creations once more,’ Tom replied smoothly. 

 

_ Once more? Like it’s a common occurrence? They are all friends now? _

 

‘Of course you’re not interfering, right Hermione?’ Ginny said with a wink. 

 

Bamboozled, Hermione shook her head. Ginny wasn’t playing matchmaker between her and Lord Voldemort. This wasn’t happening. She must be dreaming. 

 

‘See,’ Ginny said, ‘it’s a date.’ 

 

‘Hermione?’ Harry asked, looking at the hand clutching to his coat. ‘Are you okay?’

 

‘She will be,’ Riddle said, a reassuring tone in his voice. He moved in, hand falling on hers, while his eyes caught her, a subtle yet sharp warning briefly flashing in them. ‘I’ve seen this before, with agents who’ve been undercover for a much shorter period. The adjustment back to normal life can be quite a shock at first and cause an inability to distinguish between reality and the lived fiction. There’ve been instances where we, alas, had a lot of _unnecessary and unwanted_ _casualties_.’ 

 

As if to add to his warning, a tiny girl ran past them, laughing as she chased her runaway pet. 

 

‘Hermione,’ he now addressed her directly, his thumb stroking her palm. 

 

She shouldn’t enjoy his touch as much as she had, as much as she still did. The danger he presented didn’t lessen the attraction; it always had enhanced it, even back at the mansion when she’d finally realised who he truly was. It made her heart race as if she were playing with fire. Tom was oh so gorgeous, enchanting, charming, and bound to get you burned to a crisp. Still, what a way to go. 

 

‘You need to come with me for yours and …  _ everyone’s _ safety. You know delaying the debriefing can seriously compromise your memories. We wouldn’t want that, now would we?’

 

Hermione swallowed, shaking her head. Is that what he did to Harry and Ginny? Compromised their minds? Was that why they seemed perfectly fine standing next to Lord Voldemort?

 

‘You’ll be fine, Hermione,’ Harry added, concerned. ‘You’re in good hands. Tom is an expert in preserving the mental health of his staff.’

 

_ Yeah, an expert. Terrifyingly so.  _

 

‘Not a single one of his staff has been admitted to St Mungo’s since he took over the Department of Mysteries. That must be a record.’

 

‘I do my best,’ Tom said humbly. Gently, he upped the pressure of his thumb on her hand, coaxing her to release her grip. ‘And I have no intention for you to be the first one I lose, Hermione. That would be a terrible waste of such a brilliant mind.’

 

Hope fleeted through her. Perhaps there was a chance …

 

Slowly but surely his hand found purchase on the small of her back, and she allowed him to guide her forward and away from her friends. 

 

‘You know how much I loathe waste,’ Tom said barely above a whisper, ‘my Hermione.’ 

 

The possessiveness in the way her name fell from his lips, his deep, soft voice, ever so charming, enticing, and seducing, it still stirred something inside of her. Memories of the times spent together rushed back to the forefront. Good times and bad. 

 

With a flick of his wrist, a doorway appeared. The door clicked open, showing a long corridor Hermione recognised from long ago. If it were a fake, it was a good one. That definitely appeared to be the Department of Mysteries. Still, she realised she’d frozen up again, her fingers so tightly wound around her wand, it should’ve broken by the sheer force. He hadn’t taken it though. Probably because he realised she wouldn’t give it up without a fight and that taking it would entail blowing whatever this cover was. However, when her friends could no longer see her…

 

_ Never let yourself be taken to a second location _ . 

 

‘Let’s not do this here, my dear,’ Tom whispered against the back of her neck, causing goosebumps to rise on her flesh. ‘Your shining morals may have prevented you from coming sooner, but I know what you had to do to get here, remember?’

 

Her stomach sunk. Of course he would know. He’d designed that damn mansion. It had been his contingency plan, a fallback in case his horcruxes weren’t enough. A suspension in time of his twenty year old self, locked to the globe inside the library. By simply twirling the sphere, she had activated it, but he had been unable to leave the mansion. There was only one out. You needed another person to believe in you so much they would take your place and set you free. He’d escaped it in a similar fashion she had. She felt dirty by association. She was dirty. Bad. No good person would’ve done what she did. No good person would sacrifice another’s well being for theirs. 

 

‘I have no intention to harm you or any of these lovely innocent bystanders, but I will if you force my hand.’ 

 

She inhaled deeply. Resignation settled in. She’d made her choice a long time ago when she released him. She’d already chosen  _ Him _ over everybody else, including herself. As far as she could tell right now, it hadn’t turned out as disastrous as she had envisioned. Harry was fine. Ginny was fine. Her head turned to face Tom. 

 

‘You’re not hurting anyone on my watch, Riddle.’

 

He dipped his chin slightly before extending his arm. ‘Then enter, my dearest Hermione, and you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

 

A snort left her lips before she stepped through the doorway. It was a dizzying sensation. Unlike Apparition, this pulled at your navel, seemingly folding you in half and making your limbs feel twice as long as normal. When she got back at her feet on the other side, her spatial orientation was completely skewed. She stumbled forward, her arms stretched out to catch herself from a fall that didn’t come. A strong arm held her tight around the waist. Her hands landed on her knees instead. The corridor spun. Hermione closed her eyes. 

 

That didn’t help. It made it worse. She inhaled and exhaled sharply to drown away the nausea. The arm not holding her tightly flush against his body had found purchase on her upper back, rubbing it. For a brief moment it felt comforting, safe. Then his fingers slid up her neck into her hair and yanked her head back against his lean torso. Her eyes met his.

 

‘Time to submit, love,’ he said softly.

 

His magic was anything but soft. It pressed against her with an overwhelming force, seemingly crushing her from all sides. She had no idea what this curse was or would eventually do but it felt more excruciating that the cruciatus. She couldn’t even scream due to the pressure. Her breathing, oh god, she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to plead with him, to tell him to please stop, that she would do anything, but words wouldn’t — _ couldn’t _ — leave her lips, and his eyes weren’t on her anymore. He was staring off into thin air as if she weren’t in his arms being crushed to death by him.  

 

Her mind raced. This wasn’t like him, and it was, but it made no sense. If he really wanted to kill her, he’d want to watch it, see her suffering, watch her dying breath leave her body. He wouldn’t stare at some random spot. Of that she was certain. The same was true for torture. He wasn’t squeamish. He enjoyed watching his victims suffer. There had to be something he wanted, expected, of her. 

 

_ Time to submit. _

 

Seriously? 

 

Of course. 

 

But how? 

 

She couldn’t freaking move!

 

Maybe she didn’t have to. 

 

She was clutching onto her wand after all. With all her might, she focused her magic on her wandhand. She might not be able to open her fingers and drop it, but perhaps she could will it away magically? 

 

Oh Merlin, the pain was unbearable, like her skull was inside a vice that tightened more and more. She had to focus. She had to do that fast, before it became impossible. Pushing aside every other sensation, she concentrated, felt the magic swirl in her hand, and cast nonverbally ‘Evanesco’. 

 

Her fingers crushed farther together the moment her wand disappeared. She felt the world spin. Black spots appeared in her vision. The pressure on her chest felt much like an elephant sitting on top of her. For a brief moment, she questioned her decision. Perhaps instead she should’ve attacked him? She questioned every choice she ever made since she had entered that mansion. Her final thought before the world turned pitchblack was what an utter fool she was for still loving him. 

 

xxx

 

Hermione had never felt more rested than now or more comfortable as she woke. Her surroundings were so dark, she could barely see a single shape. However, the comforter covering her was incredibly soft and warm. She snuggled farther underneath it. Damn, it smelled nice, too. Reminded her of … 

 

Holy shit.

 

‘Where am I?’ she asked out loud, pretty sure he was there somewhere.

 

A candle lit up on a desk a couple of feet away. Behind it, Tom rose from his seat. 

 

‘My office at the Department of Mysteries,’ he replied, slowly moving around the desk towards her. 

 

Hermione pushed herself to a seated position, just as he arrived next to the couch and sat down on edge, effectively boxing her in. She pulled the cushion up behind her back and leaned against the armrest. 

 

‘How long have I been out?’

 

‘Not long.’

 

Hermione raised her eyebrows at that non-answer. 

 

‘Half an hour, tops,’ Tom said, resting his arm on her legs and leaning in, his other hand cupping her cheek. ‘How do you feel?’

 

Narrowing her eyes at him, she said somewhat shortly, ‘Fine …  _ now _ .’

 

His famous smirk appeared, lightening up his dark eyes with amusement. ‘I could apologise but we’d both know it would be a lie. I did what was necessary to show your true allegiance.’

 

‘Oh, my allegiance,’ Hermione mocked. ‘Yes, you can always tell where people’s allegiances lie when you torture and almost kill them. It’s such a trustworthy method.’

 

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

 

‘Argh! You’re too frustrating,’ she snapped. ‘What did you do to Harry and Ginny?’

 

‘Nothing.’

 

‘Nothing,’ she mimicked disbelievingly. ‘They don’t know who you are. Of course you did something.’

 

‘They know I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle.’

 

‘Exactly. Yet they don’t connect you to Lord Voldemort, now do they?’

 

‘Nobody can. Well, apart from you. You were insulated from my spell by the mansion’s wards when I severed those bonds.’

 

‘Severed those bonds?’

 

‘All connections between the entity known as Lord Voldemort and Tom Marvolo Riddle.’

 

‘But they’re both you. What’s that even supposed to mean? How can you sever—?’ Confused, she shook her head.

 

He shrugged. ‘It’s complicated.’

 

‘You erased their memories.’

 

‘No.’

 

‘Suppressed them then.’

 

‘No. How unusual. Clever Miss Granger has two wrong in a row. Wanna try making it a hat-trick?’

 

‘Ugh.’ She grabbed her head in frustration and rubbed through her hair. ‘Stop toying with me. You did something. You are Tom Marvolo Riddle.’

 

‘So it would seem,’ Tom said slowly.

 

‘You’re also Lord Voldemort.’

 

‘Depends.’

 

‘Depends on what? You’re him, he is you. It’s just a name change.’

 

‘It’s a bit more than that actually. Suffice it to say that him dying with all my horcruxes destroyed, while I was in stasis, allowed me the ability to sever some connections to my old self I found …  _ disadvantageous _ . By doing so, the link between both identities ceased existing as if it had never been there.’

 

‘I don’t get it.’

 

‘Obviously.’

 

‘But Har—’

 

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Rest assured, I have no need to harm Harry Potter anymore. That was his thing.’

 

‘His thing,’ she repeated, giving him a look.

 

‘Yes, his thing. I’ve actually found your Mr Potter quite useful at times. He agrees with me that we need to stop being stationary and move forward. He’s been most … accommodating to my plans of implementing “change” in the wizarding world.’

 

‘I love all these euphemisms,’ Hermione said, faking a shiver. ‘Can’t you ever just be direct for once.’

 

‘I am being direct. You—of all people—should already know precisely what I strive to become, what it is I want. From both you and the rest of the world.’

 

_ Well, at least she came before the rest of the world. Win!  _

 

‘I plan for you to come many times.’

 

Hermione felt herself go warm, heat rising all the way to her face. Why did he have this effect on her? She should know better. Like he said, she knew perfectly well what he had planned. She shouldn’t want to be a part of that. She really, really shouldn’t.

 

‘So you don’t go by that ridiculous moniker anymore?’

 

‘Don’t test my patience, Hermione. I may not use the name for the hindrance it’s become to my goals, but I won’t have you disrespecting me.’

 

‘I’m sorry, my Lord,’ Hermione mocked.

 

‘Much better, little one,’ Tom said, his fingers burying into her hair as he leaned closer. ‘I suppose I could make an exception for you.’

 

‘Er?’ 

 

‘Yes,’ he added sibilantly, ‘I do believe it would be more suiting for you to address me as such in private.’

 

Before she could object, he’d captured her lips in a searing kiss. She so loved his kisses. It was like he laid everything in them, like the world revolved around them and only them. His magic swirled around her body, titillating and arousing, causing shivers and goosebumps to erupt. Hermione moaned into his mouth when he tightened his hold on her. Her magical core stirred, wanting to join the darkness enveloping her. She felt her magic building, and building, and building, before releasing her hold and … 

 

It. Was. Magnificent. 

 

Their powers combined, shifting around them, whirling in sync. The world ceased existing as if they were inside exploding fireworks. Their clothes had long gone, their bodies moving in unison. Her fingers caressed his smooth, black locks, while his didn’t leave a single part of her body unmarked. Wherever he touched, she became a raging fire. Impossible to contain. Destructive. Powerful. Compromised. Beautiful. Yelling his chosen name, her climax burned through them like the force of a nuclear explosion. He made her come again, and again, and again, until they were both utterly spend, and collapsed into each other’s arms after his release. Their combined magic settled into a calmer, more relaxed intensity.    

 

‘I missed this,’ Hermione admitted, stroking his arm gently. 

 

‘Hmmm…’ he replied with a smile. 

 

‘Hmmm?’ She punched his arm playfully. ‘Can you try not being an arse for five minutes?’

 

If mockery had a name, she was now looking at it. 

 

‘Fine. Don’t answer that.’

 

Her whole body shook from his laughter. 

 

‘You do are entertaining, my little one.’

 

Hermione shook her head in resignation. ‘You’re impossible …  _ my Lord _ .’

 

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk … we do need to work on that tone of voice of yours.’

 

‘Why, are you going to punish me?’ Hermione taunted, daring him. 

 

He rolled them over, and got off the couch in all his naked glory. She made a face when fabric formed from thin air and folded around him until he was fully clothed again. 

 

‘Although that is a tempting suggestion, love, we have a dinner party to attend to, and you need time to think of a good cover for where you’ve been.’

 

Hermione propped her hand under her head and replied, ‘No cover required. If I am supposed to be one of your “agents”, I can’t speak of it.’

 

Tom leaned down, his breath caressing her lips. ‘Not suppose, dear, you are. And you always will be. Now get up, we have a world to conquer.’

 

‘Speaking of worlds,’ Hermione said, ruffling through her clothes and pulling out the somewhat crumpled newspaper. She tossed it at him. ‘What on earth have you done to the muggle UK in my absence?’

 

Tom looked at the cover, and sniggered. ‘I wish I could take credit for that mess, but that’s all them, dear.’

 

‘Sure it is,’ Hermione replied disbelievingly. 

 

‘It does show they need guidance from their betters, wouldn’t you say?’

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You’re not going there. Again. We’ve had this discussion too many times before.’

 

‘Agreed. Besides muggles are boring me anyway. It’s time to upgrade the wizarding world, and bring it into the twenty-first century.’ He looked her up and down, and taunted, ‘Preferably with some clothes on.’

 

As he turned away, Hermione countered, ‘Are you sure that’s what you prefer?’ 

 

It froze him on the spot. 

 

‘Dinner first, Granger. After that, you’re all  _ mine _ .’

  
xxx

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed your gift, Kyoki. <333 u


End file.
